Perfectly Dented
by ToManyLetters
Summary: Money couldn't buy a gift good for Harry; it simply wouldn't mean enough. Molly needed to give him something special – something unique – something from the heart. This was to be a special day - a very special day – the day Harry came of age. Oneshot.


* * *

**Perfectly Dented**

* * *

A _Molly Weasley _Fan Fiction

* * *

Molly was seated in her favourite rocking chair, rocking gently to and fro as she hooked another loop with her knitting needle. She'd been knitting a lot lately, more since the war began. It was her way of relieving the stress that would build itself within her. 

Something was eating at her – had been tearing at her insides for several days now. The date of Harry's birthday was fast approaching and Molly had nothing to give him. She's contemplated a menagerie of various gift possibilities, but with the meagre funds Arthur was receiving from his job at the Ministry – even with his promotion – there just wasn't enough to make a purchase. It wouldn't really matter anyway, she supposed. Harry was richer than they had ever been – he'd given Ginny her books for her first year at Hogwarts and had offered many a time since to do the same.

No, money couldn't buy a gift good for Harry; it simply wouldn't mean enough. She needed to give him something special – something unique – something from the heart. She considered knitting something for him, but this was his seventeenth birthday. A very special day – the day Harry came of age.

Molly set her needles down and her knitting aside. She took a deep breath and looked around the room. She glanced upward, seeing her wonderful clock. Her youngest children's hands read home – they were out in the garden _playing _with the Gnomes. She didn't bother encouraging them to play nicely, but was glad for the silence. Her husband's hand was rested on _work_, as it had been nearly constantly these days. She frowned, then turned her head slightly to look at the mantle above the cold fireplace. There were several portraits of her family – immediate family – as well as a single portrait of her eldest brother, Fabian.

He had long red hair, like Charlie loved to keep – she told herself her preference to her son's hair length had nothing to do with reminding her of her brother and his heroic, gruesome death, but she knew otherwise, she could see beyond the fog of lies she told herself to believe differently. He had blue eyes – an anomaly in the family – but the resemblance he and Charlie shared was undeniable. They smiled the same, laughed the same, even cried the same.

Resting beside the cheery portrait of her late brother lay a watch – a dull golden band and crystal face. Gently twinkling stars replaced the hands found in its Muggle counterpart. She stood slowly, walking to the mantle.

Raising the watch gently between her fingers, she took a moment to observe its beauty more deeply. In her mind's eye, she could see his widening smile as he placed its band around his arm for the first time – when _he _had turned seventeen. It was something of a Weasley tradition to give a watch to a wizard when he came of age – but that had always been a tradition within the family itself.

She turned the watch over, examining its plated back. There was a small dent near the top left edge. Fabian had never been one to be careful with his things. She didn't really know what situation he had been in to manage a dent there – he had been in dozens of seemingly useless situations over the years; frightening her boyfriends behind her back was a particular favourite of his – he had nearly succeeded in convincing Arthur to flee to Martinique in a row boat. Despite all this, however, his involvement in the Order – the one truly worthwhile thing he'd done – had been the thing to cost him his life. She wiped a stray tear from her cheek.

It was then she knew she had found what she had been looking for. The one thing she could give to Harry for his seventeenth birthday that would truly mean something. It wasn't new, and it wasn't flawless – it was dented on its backside and the gold had lost some of its lustre, but it meant something – for each scratch and each imperfection carried with it a story that she could share – a memory she could visit. It meant something to her and, so, would mean something to Harry.

She held the watch up to the light that shined in through the windows. It was perfect. _Perfectly dented.  
_

* * *

**Author's Note**: Just a simple idea I had after listening to PotterCast 138. I hope you enjoyed – please review! 


End file.
